


spaghetti

by mujatuan



Category: GOT7
Genre: (1), Derogatory Language, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Infidelity, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 22:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mujatuan/pseuds/mujatuan
Summary: you say you got a boyfriendbut i don't give a damn about your boyfriendyou say you want a best friendbut i'm not really tryna be your best friend





	spaghetti

**Author's Note:**

> fic inspiration: spaghetti by cj run (feat. danielle elvira)  
one of jaebeom's song recs
> 
> use of one derogatory term
> 
> please take into consideration that this fic goes in the order of 2, 1, 3 in chronological order

_ ii _

jaebeom feels intoxicated by the way mark leaves ghosting kisses over his face, his lips, feels against the sides of jaebeom’s face with his gentle fingertips. 

they’re both a little bit high, maybe more than a little bit. the rest of their weed is spilled onto the night table from the jar, crumbled and clumped together. in the dim light of jaebeom’s apartment, where mark is straddling his lap on the couch and it smells like the raspberry candles on top of the fireplace, there's a little bit of smoke and a little bit of spark.

the smell of weed seeps out of the crack in the window. mark’s breath is right by his face, mouth whispering sweet nonsense, candy tongue licking at the corner of jaebeom’s lips. 

he feels a little bit hazy. with his hands dancing along the hem of mark’s shirt that doesn’t belong to him. with his fingers reaching underneath and pulling the seam up, up. with his palms feeling over mark’s slim waist, warm skin against warmer skin and tongue in cheek, teeth and lips and the lightheadedness that consumes jaebeom’s senses.

“mark,” jaebeom slurs, and mark’s breath hitches when he hears the familiar sounds roll off jaebeom’s tongue, the both of them wanting more and more sugar, sour. 

jaebeom slides his hands up from mark’s waist to his back, memorizing every dip of his muscles and every blemish on his skin. he presses mark forward, burying his face in the crook of mark’s neck, inhaling the lavender body wash he knows mark loves. there’s a bottle of it in jaebeom’s shower, too, tucked away in the corner.

“how long do we have?” jaebeom asks. he bites at mark’s skin, nibbles on the spot until mark moans prettily in his ear, breathing heavier and heavier with every move of jaebeom’s fingers.

mark’s voice is music that jaebeom will never be able to properly map out, notes always off or melodies always wrong when he tries to remember his sighs, sounds. “half an hour,” mark responds, voice raspy.

jaebeom's not quite sure what they are together. mark is sweeter than alcohol, lollipop lips and candy eyes drowning jaebeom in his presence, jaebeom only wanting to inhale more and more of his sugary air, skin. but mark, mark who looks like the stars and dreams like the moon, is more than just a midnight fuck under the bedsheets, more than just a fever.

jaebeom never really sobers up. not when mark, the most addicting flavour, is in his arms.

_i_

being high is always safer than being drunk. that’s why when mark stumbles into his apartment with his messenger bag hanging open on his shoulder, asking for the strongest liquor he has, jaebeom denies him of that and grabs him by the hand to the bedroom.

before they smoke, mark cries. jaebeom has seen mark cry before, something that was more often than jaebeom would ever want. jaebeom holds mark and tangles the strands of his hair between his own finger, rubbing soothing fingers against mark’s temples.

“i shouldn’t have trusted that slut,” mark says, coming down from his sobs to a more sinister, low sound. jaebeom thinks it’s kind of hot. “she’s always trying to fuck who she can’t have.”

_ you shouldn’t have trusted your boyfriend, either, _ jaebeom wants to say. he keeps quiet to instead take the opportunity to let mark ramble, spilling endless words and words of his _ hate _ and his _ stupid boyfriend _ and everything evil in the world. 

he doesn’t mind listening. mark had texted him, earlier, something along the lines of _ hey i’ve been down can i come over _ and jaebeom had dropped all his plans, left the club early to have mark wrapped up in his own blankets. but those are just little details.

“he’s such a fucking child,” mark spits. “i’m done with him.” but jaebeom knows it’s not true, that mark doesn’t yet have the heart to initiate any sort of break up, any sort of leave. 

jaebeom doesn’t respond. he hums, playing with mark’s hair between his fingers. 

“sorry,” mark eventually says. “you look uninterested.”

“not that,” jaebeom responds. “just thinking.”

“about?”

“something. you, maybe.”

mark looks at him. jaebeom stares back, traces the constellations in mark’s glazed eyes. 

that night, they make love. it’s not fucking, not a one night stand, not a rebound. too many emotions were pushed into a too little cup, held together by the flimsiest lid, and now jaebeom’s poking holes.

_iii_

mark gives up the high for a night in jaebeom’s warmth. he’s lit the candle for the first time since he bought it, dust wiped away and put back far down in the drawer. the light flickers, shadows dancing along the edges of the wall, but jaebeom is leaning against the headboard of the bed and so is mark, wrapped up properly between the comforter and jaebeom’s body.

their hands are together, not quite holding but not quite anything else, just _ together. _ jaebeom feels over mark’s nails, mark presses them into the skin on jaebeom’s wrist, leaving crescent shaped indents that say _ mine, mine, mine. _

it’s all that jaebeom has wanted. _ yours, _jaebeom thinks.

tonight, jaebeom won’t ask for the time. he won’t let mark answer, either, won’t let mark look at the clock on the wall or his phone lockscreen. maybe he’ll keep mark here forever, in the perfect embrace of jaebeom. maybe he’ll take him out of the city, country, take him back to los angeles and kiss him dirty. maybe he’s gone, drowned and swallowed in love.

mark shuffles a little bit and turns around. jaebeom hums. “beom…” mark says, and jaebeom already knows what mark wants to say. 

jaebeom wraps his arms around mark again and lets them both fall onto their sides, mark on the right side of the bed and jaebeom on the left. their legs are tangled together in a mess, jaebeom’s left hand propping his head up and his right hand on mark’s lips. 

like this, they stare at each other. jaebeom knows every curve of mark’s body.

“not tonight,” jaebeom says to mark.

mark can’t look him in the eyes. jaebeom knows it’s guilt, guilt that shouldn’t really be there because of his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s not-so-secret secret but he doesn’t really care. “look at me, yien,” jaebeom says.

mark looks.

“stay,” jaebeom murmurs. “with me. i’ll take care of you.”

his voice is shaking, and mark’s eyes are glassy and foggy and jaebeom wants to kiss him so bad.

“you promise?” mark asks.

he’s always been taking care of mark, but he wants more, more, more sweet on his tongue and more mark in his life. “i promise,” jaebeom says, and he does.

mark kisses him. his lips are soft, plush, pretty and pink and jaebeom nibbles at them, lets mark lick over his own, and mark whispers _ jaebeom _ into their kiss and jaebeom thinks that it might be his favourite song in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mujatuan)   
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/mujatuan)   



End file.
